


(There Is No Place Like) Home

by soft_princess



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-20
Updated: 2007-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/pseuds/soft_princess
Summary: Sometimes, it takes an apocalypse to put things into perspective. Sunnydale collapsing led Xander to realize he was a complete moron.
Relationships: Xander Harris/Jesse McNally
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	(There Is No Place Like) Home

**Author's Note:**

> set post-Chosen. Yes, you read that right. AU in which they got to Jesse in time, and he didn't get turned into a vampire.

It had been on Xander's mind the whole time.

From the moment they rushed into the bus, Sunnydale High collapsing behind them, through the stops along the way; first at the edge of the crater, then later, at the hospital where they got everyone patched up and left Robin in the hands of the doctors, with Faith standing guard. It was on his mind up until the moment they finally stopped for the night about ninety miles from what used to be home.

He couldn't say it out loud, but no matter how much he wished it to, it wouldn't go away. It was twisting and turning in his head like some kind of never ending nightmare.

Giles divided them up into several rooms at the motel, because he was the only one with his head clear enough to do it; Xander kind of envied him that, the cool head in the midst of-- _this_. Everyone left in different directions, eager to shower and sleep. Well, as eager as you could be about anything at all after witnessing a whole city disappear into the ground.

Xander stood there next to the yellow bus and watched everyone leave the parking lot with keys and sullen faces. He wished for their sake that at least some of them could do that. Could _sleep_ , because he was pretty sure that sleeping was definitely _completely_ out of the question for him, and that was going to be a problem in the morning, since it would take him out of the driver rotation they had going on. Unless there was some _really_ good coffee with the continental breakfast included in their rooms' fare, but he doubted it.

The four guys _should_ have been sharing a room; Xander thought it was kind of obvious, and it would be a lot cheaper, but Giles had apparently been serious when he'd said no more than two or three to a room. When Xander finally made his way into his assigned bedroom, he was alone with Jesse. Try as he might, he couldn't remember who had unlocked the door and let him in. It was only after he sat on the bed, shoes and socks off, that he realized Giles and Andrew weren't there.

The realization was startling until he put two and two together, because the thought that Giles was sharing with Andrew was more than a little bit funny, and Xander actually smiled for a second. He really couldn't imagine the kind of suicidal thoughts Giles had going on when he made that decision.

He spared one look at Jesse, sprawled on the bed and quiet as he never _ever_ was, and Xander wasn't so sure this arrangement was working for him either. The thought was still hovering in his mind, just seconds away from being voiced, and maybe Xander should go and see Giles and ask if they could switch rooms. It wasn't like they'd have a lot of things to move, since none of them had much of anything left other than the clothes on their backs.

But Xander stayed right where he was, on the bed, mimicking Jesse's pose and doing his best not to say anything or even _move_. He looked at the ceiling instead. It was just plain white, nothing fancy, nothing even remotely interesting. Xander's gaze drifted away from it, and back to Jesse, whose eyes -- both of them, _bastard_ \-- were closed, and he looked almost peaceful. Xander knew him well enough, though, to know that he was anything _but_ peaceful and that in the morning Jesse would be skipping breakfast in favour of a run or something, because ever since Larry, Jesse had started being a weird athletic type person. Xander had gotten over the weird a while ago, but it still hit him, sometimes.

*

The day after graduation, Xander packed his things in the car he and Jesse had been saving up for all year, and drove out to Jesse's house. 

Mrs. McNally showed him in, but the look on her face made Xander frown and he almost forgot why he was there. But a second later, he was bouncing up the stairs, and throwing Jesse's bedroom door open with a cheerful "Hey, buddy!" Mrs. McNally was probably just worried for them -- she'd spent hours lecturing Jesse in the last month about going off on their own like this.

When Jesse looked up, the first thought that went through Xander's mind was _damn, he shouldn't have stayed up all night._ Jesse looked tired, and his eyes were puffed and red. Xander eyed the opened suitcase on the floor and okay, this was probably not a good thing because it was _empty_. It shouldn't _be_ empty. It should be full and packed and ready to go.

"Need help?" he asked, and when Jesse shook his head, Xander had the sudden thought that _something was wrong_

"I'm not going."

"What do you mean you're not going?" Xander let out a panicked squeak. "We've been planning this ever since we _started_ high school. Four years, Jesse, _four years_. You can't just..." He shut up when Jesse looked up at him, eyes bright and _angry_.

"I'm not going. Just go, on your own, whatever."

"But-- Why? I don't get it." He added, two seconds before he could stop himself: "you look like hell." 

Jesse shook his head and turned away from Xander with a scowl. "You-- my _boyfriend_ died, yesterday, so I think I have a pretty good reason to--"

"Boy--boyfriend?" Xander squeaked again. Okay, now _that_? That he hadn't been expecting. This morning was full of unexpected things, and this was definitely one of those.

"Larry knew you wouldn't get it." Jesse still wasn't looking at Xander, and his tone was accusatory, like Xander had done something wrong, but _he_ wasn't the one who'd been withholding secrets that could potentially screw up their summer road trip plans.

"I wouldn't get it?" Xander shouted. "Of course I don't, because I didn't even know you had one--one of those!" _Some best friend_ , he thought, sourly. What kind of best friend kept that kind of thing to himself?

"God, just leave, man, just go," Jesse sighed and there was a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I really don't want to deal with you--this, today."

Xander knew when to push and when not to push. Stunned and kind of annoyed too, he turned around and went back downstairs, outside, to his car.

He was two hours away from Sunnydale when he realized he'd left anyway, and he might as well just do this on his own. When he got stranded in Oxnard after just a couple of days on the road, he thought about picking up the phone and asking Jesse to come get him, but he decided against it because he was a stubborn moron and he'd gotten there without Jesse, so he could keep going without him.

Two weeks later, late at night in the dark, damp, and dirty motel room, after a long shift at the _Fabulous Ladies'_ , Xander had finally made the connection between Jesse and Larry and _boyfriends_. Then he'd remembered how he'd reacted to Larry coming out to him when they'd been looking for the werewolf, and it was a fair bet that Larry would have told Jesse, and that, _that_ explained how a best friend could keep something like that secret.

And Larry had died on Graduation day.

*

They'd never talked about it again. When Xander had finally come home, Jesse was back to his usual cheerful self, and if there was any tension between them, they both just ignored it.

Jesse stirred on the next bed; Xander could see his shoulder move into view, and then his head. He had a hand over his eyes, rubbing, and he said: "Xander--"

Xander still wasn't going to say anything, he didn't _want_ to, but what he wanted least of all was Jesse _talking_ , so his mouth took control before his brain could catch up: "You could have died."

Xander knew he had every right to be pissed off that his best friend had almost gotten himself killed today doing the stupidest thing ever known to man -- he'd saved Andrew's ass; granted, it was kind of heroic, but you just _didn't_ get yourself beheaded for someone who wanted to die in the first place. No, the problem here wasn't that Xander had no right, it was that Xander's anger was coupled with a great deal of something else that he really shouldn't have been feeling at all.

He was angry and weary and _guilty_ , and what he really wanted to do right now was pull Jesse into his arms, press his face into the curve of Jesse's neck, and breathe him in, feel him breathe right there next to him, until Xander was sure, absolutely and completely sure, that Jesse was really alive, and wouldn't leave him. Ever.

And all that didn't make any sense to him at all, because Jesse was the gay guy here, not Xander. Xander should have been good to go with giving Jesse just a pat on the shoulder and a "well done, thanks for not getting killed." If Jesse wanted to go for a hug, so be it, Xander had accepted that both his best friends were gay a long time ago -- Jesse that same summer and Willow about an hour after he'd learned about Tara; and what the hell was wrong with _both_ his best friends that they wouldn't tell him, or thought that he'd react badly to it, Xander had never understood -- it really didn't bother him anymore, and never really had to begin with.

Except that lately Jesse's hand had started lingering on Xander's shoulder a lot more than usual. Since the whole Anya fiasco of last year, when Xander had been at his most idiotic, Jesse had been there, and it was like the tension that had coated their relationship for almost three years had just dissolved. Xander knew that Jesse was the reason Anya hadn't set foot back in Sunnydale since. He had no idea why or how or what the hell had happened between them, but Xander still knew that Jesse had said or done something, and Anya had never come after Xander.

Xander really liked the hand-lingering thing. More than any straight guy ever should.

“We _all_ could have died.” Jesse made it sound like Xander was some kind of stupid, like he really should have known better.

And instead of being offended by that, Xander was _relieved_. If Jesse had had any idea what was going through Xander's mind, he wouldn't have said that. Or he wouldn't have said it _like this_. He'd probably have run away as far as possible -- _he_ 'd have been the one asking Giles to switch rooms.

"Xander? You okay?"

Xander was about to shout back "I'm about as okay as I can be considering my hometown's gone and my best friend almost got himself killed," when he realized he was crying. Okay, not crying, but when he blinked, there were a couple of tears on his cheeks, and he was shaking, and-- _shit_ , he couldn't do this. Not just the crying, but the holding himself upright, not cracking up like an egg against a pan, trying to keep going when there was nothing left for any of them except the vast emptiness of a road to nowhere.

Jesse sat next to him, and the closeness was just too much. Xander reached out and pulled Jesse to him, needing the contact, the warmth of Jesse's body against his. A sharp intake of breath answered his movements, and Jesse was clutching at him, pulling him even closer. 

"Do you have any idea how much I want to say "It's going to be okay, Xan," except I know it won't, and it's burning me up," Jesse was saying, and Xander could feel Jesse's lips so close to his ear. "At least, you--we're still here."

Xander was choking, broken sobs tearing through his throat, but somehow, he didn't care. He nodded against Jesse's shoulder, and tried his hardest to keep breathing.

Maybe it didn't matter that Xander wasn't gay, that he liked girls, and somehow now he liked _Jesse_ too; maybe nothing mattered anymore. He held on more tightly. "Don't die on me, Jesse, just -- don't."

"God, Xander," Jesse groaned, pulling away in Xander's arms just enough that their eyes met and held. There was something in Jesse's gaze that almost made Xander scramble off the bed, but he didn't because just when the idea crossed his mind, Jesse said: "It goes for you, too." And then Jesse was kissing him.

It was desperate and clumsy, and Xander wasn't sure they should have been doing this, but he kissed back. He kissed back sloppily and scrambling, not _off_ the bed, but further on, until he felt like he was as close to Jesse as he was going to get. Lips and tongues and hands, pulling, grabbing and biting; Jesse was all hard lines and sharp angles where Xander was used to soft curves, but this felt right in a way that nothing else ever did before.

And then Xander couldn't think anymore, because Jesse pressed his hand underneath Xander's shirt and pushed him gently, coaxing Xander until he was lying down with Jesse pressed warm against his side. "Xander," Jesse moaned brokenly. "God, _Xander_." When he pulled back and looked into Xander's eye again, he looked scared, surprised, elated. But mostly scared, and he opened his mouth as if to say something...

 _No, no, no,_ Xander thought, and he grabbed the back of Jesse's neck and curled his other hand on Jesse's hip and flipped them over. Jesse was stunned, and that was all Xander needed to press their lips together again, and make him forget that he was going to say _anything_. They couldn't talk right now, or think, or overanalyze what they were doing, because Xander knew that he was going to freak out _any minute now_ if they did. And Xander was kissing him hard and -- shit, _stubble_ \-- licking across Jesse's lips.

"I want you," Jesse whispered, fingers fumbling over Xander's belt. "You have no idea how much. Shit."

Xander shivered and pressed his face against the crook of Jesse's neck. "Please," he whimpered. He stopped moving just long enough for Jesse to get belt, buttons and zipper undone, and he moaned when Jesse's fingers slipped inside his boxers. "Jesse," he moaned.

"Yeah," Jesse whispered into Xander's ear, fingers sliding teasingly across Xander's cock. "God, do you know how long I've wanted to do this, Xander? Do you have any idea?" He licked Xander's earlobe and bit it gently just as he pulled Xander's cock free and curled his fist around it. "Yeah, feels so good in my hand."

Xander whimpered again and put both hands on Jesse's shoulders, gripping him hard. "Jesse," he said again. If he could think right now, he'd probably have been freaking out, but he wasn't thinking; all he could feel was Jesse's hand on him, and his own hands on Jesse's skin. He could feel Jesse's stubble burning the skin of his neck, but it didn't hurt; it made Xander moan and shiver.

"Shit, man, you're so fucking hot," Jesse murmured, pressing kisses across Xander's jaw. "Wanna feel you come like this."

Xander wasn't _against_ that idea, not at all, but he still shook his head and managed a feeble "naked?" He wanted to feel skin, Jesse's skin, and more than just what he could reach under Jesse's shirt; Xander wanted thighs and legs and -- _God, damn_ \-- ass and cock.

It didn't look like Jesse had heard him at all, at first, but after a few more strokes that went right to short-circuiting Xander's brain, he pulled back and stood up. Before Xander had had time to blink and clear his head, Jesse had shucked off shirt, pants, briefs and socks, and was pulling at Xander's jeans.

There was a moment of awkwardness when Xander lifted his hips and managed to get his shirt tangled in his arms while he was taking it off. And then it was gone. They were both completely naked, and Jesse was crawling back on the bed, skin brushing against Xander's body.

Xander put his hand on Jesse's hip and leaned forward to kiss him again. He shivered when Jesse moaned, and pushed his hand further down to touch Jesse's ass cheek, slowly, almost tickling the skin. Jesse squirmed against him and bit Xander's lower lip.

Both of them were panting, arching, moving against each other. Jesse pushed Xander back and straddled his hips, grinding down on him. "Shit, man, I--" He moaned, and Xander felt him shudder on top of him. "Want you so bad," Jesse repeated.

Xander's head was spinning, just a little, just enough that he felt like maybe he wasn't breathing enough, and he didn't care. He put both hands on Jesse's thighs and just looked at him, torso stretching tall, and flat chest covered with hair, so different, and yet -- _God_ \-- so very hot. Xander racked his fingers across Jesse's pecks and licked his lips. "Jesse," he said, breathless, arching underneath him.

Moron should have been his middle name. Or King of Denial. Something. Because there was no way he wasn't at least just a tiny little bit gay, not when looking at Jesse's torso and thighs and chest hair -- and fucking hell, his _cock_ , hard and leaking against Xander's belly -- was making Xander so hard he didn't think there was any blood left going to his brain.

Jesse leaned down and pressed their lips together, hard, bruising, kissing Xander and thrusting against his hip. "Don't think," he whispered, biting down again and making Xander whimper with it. "Just feel, Xander. Feels good, right?" 

"Fuck, yes," Xander groaned, thrusting up and gripping Jesse's hips with his fingers. He didn't even care if he left bruises.

"Love your cock," Jesse murmured. "So thick and perfect." He slipped a hand off Xander's shoulder and between their bodies, joining words with actions. He wrapped his fist around Xander and squeezed, stroked, squeezed again. "If I had any lube, I'd ride you. Bet you'd feel amazing, fucking me."

No, actually, Xander did care if he left bruises, he _wanted_ to see the marks on Jesse's body when he woke up in the morning. He squeezed his fingers harder, because, fuck, Jesse was evil, _evil_ , saying these things and leaving Xander with images in his brain when he could barely think already.

"You gonna come, Xander? You gonna come with my hand on you like this, fisting you?"

Xander let out a whimper and arched up, eyes closing. He didn't want to come yet; he wanted Jesse to get there with him. Maybe he had no idea what he was doing, but he'd always been a quick study -- for some things, anyway -- and he did just like Jesse, slowly letting go of one of Jesse's hip and sliding his hand down the inside of Jesse's thigh to his groin, wrapping a loose, teasing grip around his cock.

Xander had another guy's cock in his hand, was _touching_ it, jerking it with his fist, and it didn't feel nearly as wrong or weird as he'd have thought it would.

"Oh fuck, yeah," Jesse moaned, loudly, right into Xander's ear, making him shiver.

"Like that?" he asked, tightening his grip just a little.

"Fuck, yeah, damn, Xander," Jesse groaned, each word broken and shaky. "Used to jerk off thinking about this, you know."

The idea of Jesse masturbating with images of Xander in his head should have been _wrong_ \-- and Xander was really thankful Jesse had never told him, not even when they'd both been drunk, because _that_ would have freaked him out a lot more than the gay thing -- and it was everything _but_ wrong; it was hot. So, damn, fucking _hot_. "Tell me."

It scared him just a little how much he wanted to know, wanted to hear Jesse say it, tell him how he'd go to bed and think of this when Xander was going home to Anya.

"Wanted you to touch me, just like this," Jesse started, and was interrupted by another moan and a whimper when Xander tightened his grip again and stroked just a little faster. "Fuck, yeah."

Xander could feel his orgasm building, ears ringing, and blood pooling down and away from his brain, and he arched. "Don't stop, fuck."

"Not gonna stop until you come," Jesse whispered, burying his face in Xander's neck and biting, just hard enough that there would be a mark there in the morning.

Xander cried out, tensed and tightened his grip on hip and cock. "Jesse." He let out a short, strangled whimper, and came, shuddering, his orgasm ringing through his ears.

"Shit," Jesse groaned, not stopping the movement of his hand.

He kept going until Xander pushed his hand away. "Stop, hurts," he managed to say. Jesse chuckled and Xander felt him pull back, hand letting go of Xander's cock with a flick of the wrist. Xander tried to stop him feebly; it was like all his strength drained out through his cock. "Don't go," he murmured, dazed.

"Just looking at you," Jesse replied, voice strained and hoarse.

Xander blinked and forced himself to open his eye. He saw Jesse sitting on his heels above Xander's thighs, hand on his own dick and stroking fast. "God," Xander moaned, feeling another satisfied shudder run through his spine.

Jesse grinned and sped up his strokes. "You're so fucking hot when you come," he said.

"Bet you're hotter," Xander mumbled. He put his hands on Jesse's thighs and caressed the skin, racking his fingers up and down through Jesse's hair. God, he loved how it felt. He loved how everything was so much more sensitive after he'd just come.

"Gonna see in a minute," Jesse muttered. "Gonna come for you, Xan."

"Shit, yeah," Xander groaned. "Wanna watch." He reached between Jesse's legs, and wrapped his hand loosely around Jesse's. "Come on," he urged him.

Jesse apparently didn't need any more encouragement. He threw his head back, baring his neck and shoulders, and groaned, low in his throat as he spilled himself on Xander's stomach, come mixing with Xander's own. "Yeah, yeah," he murmured, over and over again as he kept stroking and shuddering.

Jesse collapsed next to Xander, panting, and they both stared at the ceiling for a moment.

Correction, Xander amended when he turned to look at Jesse, Xander had been looking at the ceiling, Jesse was staring at _him_.

"You okay?" Jesse whispered, uncertain, like he was expecting Xander to bolt _any second now_.

Xander twisted onto his side, and put his arm around Jesse's torso, feeling him breathing heavily against him. "Yeah," Xander replied softly. He kissed Jesse's shoulder -- he didn't think he could manage to lift his head long enough to reach Jesse's mouth -- and laid his head on the pillow.

He really was okay. He was more than okay. This had been-- something. Definitely _something_. Xander couldn't think well enough to finish that thought, but something worked. He yawned and tightened his hold on Jesse's stomach. "M'okay." He whispered the words, and then fell asleep.

*

Xander hated morning afters. About three seconds after waking up on the morning after the day that he really wished did _not_ exist, Xander realized he'd pulled a muscle in his thigh during the night, somehow, and decided this was the morning after he hated the most; but not because of the burning pain when he tried to sit up.

Usually, after sleeping with someone for the first time, Xander was _glad_ if they were out of bed, and somewhere that wasn't the bedroom, when he woke up. It was a lot less uncomfortable. But this morning, when he rolled over in bed, expecting a warm, _male_ body next to him, he found nothing but air, and he was _disappointed_ about it. Really disappointed.

He pushed back the pain to stand up and pull on his pants. Jesse wasn't in the bathroom or in the hallway -- when Xander popped his head out to look -- so Xander put on the rest of yesterday's dirty clothes and went out. Jesse wasn't in the lobby, or eating breakfast. He wasn't sitting outside near the entrance, he was--

\--sitting on the bench closest to the bus.

Xander thought about turning back now that he knew where Jesse was, but his legs had another plan and kept moving him closer to the bench. "Hey," he said, lamely.

Jesse didn't look up. He had his hands between his knees, fingers linked. "We can pretend it never happened."

Xander frowned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He could pretend he had no idea what Jesse was talking about, that the pulled muscle was a result of the battle, not what happened afterwards. He thought that might be what Jesse wanted him to do. Or _expected_ of him, Xander amended. Instead, he said: "Why?"

Jesse looked up, eyebrow raised, and just stared at him.

"Right, that thing where I'm not supposed to be gay," Xander murmured. He sighed and sat next to Jesse, wincing only a little. He won points for that; he'd make sure to note it down later. "I don't want to pretend. In fact," he added, straightening up just a little. "I think I've done more than enough of _that_."

The staring didn't even falter a _little_.

"Look, I could spend a lot of time trying to explain it to you, but _I_ have no idea what I'm doing, okay?" Xander was starting to get a little unnerved. "I don't understand this, not even just a tiny, so very tiny, bit. I just know I--" he racked a hand through his hair, and sighed again. "I liked it. A lot. More than--" God, he couldn't say that.

Jesse straightened up and looked at the motel in front of them.

Xander wanted to reach out and touch him; touch his hand, or his neck. Kiss him. Maybe. "Can we just-- do over? I mean, just, we're starting over, we can say nothing before yesterday matters."

"But it does," Jesse whispered, turning to Xander. "You can't just decide years of your life didn't happen."

"I didn't say happen, I said "matter", there's a difference," Xander countered. "It happened, and I was stupid, and in fucking _denial_ for too long; and I can't stand to think about that; how things could have been different." He wouldn't have hurt Anya so much, for one thing; probably never would have cheated on Cordelia, since he wouldn't have gone out with her in the first place -- or maybe he'd have cheated on her with _Jesse_ , and that would have fucked up so much more than what had been fucked already.

"So, what you said--"

Xander shook his head. "I said a lot of things to you over the years that I regret; that I regretted the moment I said them. You know, sometimes I wonder how you can still stand me." He smiled for a fleeting moment, then sobered up and looked away. "When Larry just assumed I was-- I was _gay_ , I freaked. Big time. You know my parents, Jesse." Even to his own ears that sounded like he was pleading. God, he was such a screw-up. "Not that it's an excuse--"

After Xander had come back from the summer, he'd been relegated to the basement with a set of strict rules to follow. First one on the list had been "Jesse is no longer allowed." Or, as Xander's father had put it: "don't want that faggot pervert anywhere near this house." He even punctuated that with a punch to the wall for a dramatic finish.

"It is." Jesse said, gently. He picked up Xander's hand in his and squeezed.

Okay, maybe it was an excuse. Before now, at least, because now, _now_ Xander had no desire to see his parents ever again. He might punch them in the face if he did.

Xander squeezed back, eye drifting to their entwined fingers, and then looked around the parking lot. "Can we-- can we have this conversation somewhere that isn't so open? I mean-- what's wrong with our room?"

Jesse smiled at him, and let go of Xander's hand. He wiped his hands on his pants nervously when he stood up. "Nothing's wrong with the room," he said.

Xander tried to ignore that Jesse's voice was shaking. He couldn't blame him for being scared or nervous or anxious or whatever the hell Jesse was. He thought about panicking too -- had he mentioned yet that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing? Or why? Why _now_? Why _Jesse_? -- but he took a deep breath and followed Jesse in. 

Everyone else must still have been sleeping, because there was no one anywhere when they went back up and slipped inside their room. The moment the door was shut behind them, Xander curled a hand around Jesse's neck and pulled him close. He kissed him, slowly, lips pressing on lips, and fingers playing idly with the hair at the base of Jesse's neck.

Pulling back, Xander whispered: "I'll be okay with this, I promise. I just-- I just really need you to be patient."

Which he knew was probably the worse thing to ask of Jesse, who couldn't pull off patient if his life -- or even other people's lives -- were on the burner. But Xander needed time, and he needed _Jesse_ to give it to him.

"It's okay," Jesse murmured across Xander's lips, his own hands coming up to cup Xander's shoulders. "God, Xander, I've been waiting years for you to get your fucking head out of your ass, I can be patient, okay?"

Xander couldn't help it, he laughed and buried his head in the crook of Jesse's neck to muffle the sound. _Moron_ , that was him. "Years--"

"Yeah," Jesse replied, and he kissed Xander again. "You're the first guy I--" Jesse bit Xander's lip, and Xander could almost feel Jesse blushing against his palm when he brought his hand up to cup Jesse's jaw. "Sometimes, I kinda feel like I've wanted you forever."

Jesse's fingers brushed Xander's eyepatch, and Xander swallowed heavily. "I don't see why." He wasn't anything special or extraordinary. Larry had been a football player, tall and broad shouldered; Graham had been a _soldier_ , intelligent and strong; and all the others Jesse never talked about, every guy Jesse had openly gone out with, had been everything Xander wasn't.

"Shit, you're a moron," Jesse whispered, chuckling softly and pulling Xander closer. "A _moron_ , man." The next kiss was harder, more passionate, and Jesse took advantage of Xander being just a little distracted to sneak a thigh between Xander's legs, pressing against his rapidly growing cock.

"Fuck." Xander moaned, pain and pleasure shooting up through his spine. "Careful, leg hurts," he said, pushing back against Jesse. "Okay, I'm a moron. Whatever you say." He'd agree to anything as long as Jesse didn't _stop_.

Jesse laughed, pushed Xander against the wall, and kissed him again. "Yeah."

Xander gave a humph as his back connected with the hard surface of the wall. "Just-- God, just don't stop showing me how much, okay?"

Licking a trail from Xander's jaw to his ear, Jesse whispered: "Never."

The end.


End file.
